


Névé Withal Xeric

by Helmhammerhand



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Jearmin Week, M/M, Prose Poem, Wordcount: 100-500
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 18:27:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1951563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helmhammerhand/pseuds/Helmhammerhand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I will sit up in the saddle of the storm, I will ride across the sea I stand before."</p><p>The blizzard greets the desert sand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Névé Withal Xeric

**Author's Note:**

> A very short prose poem I wrote while thinking about Jean and Armin's character development and their growing understanding of one another.

I can still feel your heat beneath my skin; fingertips slightly singed as if I’ve left my hand on a hot stove, just as momentary. You are a multitude of incomprehensible miniature parts, a cohesive whole devastating and ancient; you are the desert sand. Painting yourself desolate, uninviting and withdrawn, your landscapes defend a solemn periphery. I found my way through your traps, your granular mazes and rings of merging, seamless shadows. I remain lost, marveling endlessly through the vast expanse within you. You shimmer around the edges of my vision, beckoning me further. My throat parches, small fragments of your essence threading through me, as an oasis appears before my tired feet. Drinking freely from the well of your existence, I want for nothing. Sidewinder traces of you trail along my torso, setting constellations of my nerves alight. Your grace warms my frigid bones; I feel life in me again. I keep time by counting the grains of you slipping through my fingers; the minutes must be slowing, stretching into hours as your cling to my hands. Digging deep into the earth, I weave my fingers among your ceaseless heat.

I will soothe your torrid soul.

͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟ ˟

Hypothermia sets in slowly, reverently, the way snow dusts along a frosted ridge in darkness. Finding myself upon your precipice, my body burns a vivid shade of numb; sensation turning to frozen heat beneath my skin, curling my fingers around my elbows. You are a blizzard, frigid and unrelenting. So determined to drive everything away from you; your words fall around my ears in gales and gasps, icy shards clinging like daggers to inconsistent syllables. Your chill finds its way under my clothing, through my skin, into my bones. What are you protecting then, what hurt has caused the tempest? In the depths of you I found a small flame, flickering wildly. Approaching slowly, your hearth fire burns along my body, awoken eyes trailing slowly past collarbones and a heated heart. I did not expect a glacial wind to have this sweet a caress, tenderness aching beneath frost-tipped fingers along my spine. I can feel the chapped skin on my lips where your winter has fallen upon me, abrupt and shocking in it's grace. I wear the rough edges like a faded gown, comforting and well-worn. Your frost steadily loses bite as your hands conform to my body drinking in its intricate knowledge, like a ritual performance.

There is warmth in you yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by song "The Blizzard's Never Seen the Desert Sand" by the Tallest Man on Earth.


End file.
